Scattering — the series · Illustrated Physics

How much each colour is scattered. Scattering strength against wavelength, as the inverse fourth power, normalised to one at 550 nanometres. Light at 450 nanometres is scattered 4.35 times as strongly as light at 650 nanometres — which is the whole reason the sky is the colour it is.

Why the sky is blue and the sunset is not, from one exponent

Scattering goes as the inverse fourth power of wavelength, and that single number produces a blue sky and a red sun without any second explanation. The two facts look opposite and are the same arithmetic.

part 1 · optics

Where the sky's blue goes. How many times more strongly a sphere scatters 450 nm light than 650 nm light, against its radius, with the radius on a logarithmic axis running from a couple of nanometres to twenty micrometres. On the left the ratio sits at 4.35, which is the fourth power of the wavelength ratio and the whole reason the daytime sky is blue. It does not stay there. By a radius of 245 nm the preference has halved, and by a micrometre it has essentially gone: a particle comparable with the wavelength scatters every visible colour within a few per cent of equally, which is why a cloud is white, why fog is white, why milk is white and why the exhaust of a cold diesel is white while the smoke of a cigarette — whose particles are ten times smaller — is blue. Nothing about the material changed between one end of this axis and the other; only the size did.

When the particle is the size of the wave

The sky is blue because small things scatter short wavelengths far more strongly. A cloud is made of the same water and scatters every colour alike. Nothing about the material changed — only the size, and one dimensionless number crossing one.

part 2 · optics

N when the phases are random, N² when they are not. Scattered intensity against the number of scatterers, both logarithmic, for two ways of adding the same amplitudes. The lower curve averages 400 draws of N unit amplitudes with independent random phases and grows as N^1.000; the upper one adds them in phase and grows as N². At 3000 scatterers the two differ by a factor of 2921. Nothing about the scatterers is different between the two — same number, same strength, same wavelength. Only the arrangement is, and it is worth three decades here.

Why a litre of water is not blue for the reason the sky is

The same molecules that make the sky blue also make the refractive index of air, and the two numbers agree because the sideways sum has random phases and the forward one does not. Condense those molecules into a liquid and the sideways sum collapses by a factor of sixteen — and what is left is thirty-four times smaller than the absorption that actually colours the water.

part 3 · optics

Why only a sideways scattered wave takes anything away. The transmitted amplitude behind a thin scatterer, drawn as a phasor: the incident wave of unit length along the axis, plus a forward-scattered wave of length 0.12 at 0°, 60°, 90°, 150°. What a detector reads is the square of the total length. A scattered wave along the incident one lengthens or shortens the sum in proportion to itself; one at right angles changes the length only in second order, because a small perpendicular addition to a long vector barely alters its length. So a scatterer that removes energy from the beam at first order must scatter forward with a component perpendicular to the incident wave, and the size of that component is the whole extinction — which is the optical theorem.

Everything a scatterer removes, from one direction

How much light a particle takes out of a beam — by scattering it anywhere at all, and by absorbing it — is fixed entirely by what it does in the forward direction, where its scattered wave cannot be told apart from the incident one. The mechanism is interference, and it also gives the refractive index.

part 4 · optics

Light that walks through a cloud. Seven photons entering a slab 8 scattering mean free paths thick from above, straight down, and followed until they leave, with every scattering equally likely to send them in any direction; their paths are projected onto the page. Of 20000 photons followed the same way, 82.5 per cent come back out of the top and 17.5 per cent out of the bottom. Diffusion theory predicts 18.2 per cent through the bottom. Only 10 photons cross without scattering at all, where e⁻⁸ predicts 6.7 — within the counting error of so few: nearly all of what is transmitted has walked, and the direction it arrived from is forgotten on the way.

The cloud light has to walk through

A beam crossing thirty scattering lengths of anything should keep e⁻³⁰ of itself — a ten-millionth of a millionth. A cloud thirty scattering lengths thick lets through nearly a third of the sunlight falling on it. The light has not crossed; it has walked, one scattering at a time, and a walk through a slab obeys a law with the shape of Ohm's rather than of an exponential.

part 5 · optics

With interference kept, transmission falls exponentially; without it, only as one over the thickness. Light through stacks of randomly thick transparent layers, alternating indices 1 and 2.6, with thicknesses scattered by ±50 per cent about a quarter wave, on a logarithmic scale against the number of layers. The falling line is the transmission with the waves' interference kept, computed exactly by multiplying transfer matrices and averaged as the logarithm over 40 random stacks and five wavelengths. It falls in a straight line: the transmission drops by a factor of e every 17 layers, however thick the stack, which is exponential decay — localisation. The upper curve is the same stacks with every surface's reflection and transmission added as intensities, so that no interference survives. It falls only as one over the thickness, checked to grow in exact proportion, which is the diffusion of light through a cloud: at 400 layers it still transmits 1.0 per cent where the coherent stack typically transmits 4.5·10⁻¹¹.

The walk that interference can stop

Light scattered many times walks through a cloud, and a walk always gets through eventually — a slab twice as thick lets through half as much. Keep the waves' interference instead of adding intensities, and in one dimension the same disorder does something a walk cannot: it stops the light exponentially, traps it in modes with nothing special about where they sit, and turns transmission from a number into a spread over powers of ten. Whether the same can happen to light in three dimensions has been claimed, retracted and argued for thirty years.

part 6 · optics